and huff in every stride, we tried...
my bovvers and me, to leave with a modicum of decorum...
wot fitted our new found place on the ladder of gentrification.
Home with warm socks looking forlorn
'Hmm... we've bin throne outta better gaffs than this!'
Beat a way out of me north and south.
I wouldn't mind but the snow was coming from the East.
And I was having such a super time, perishing but lovely for all that.
After opening up the out-post for garden guides, I ventured forth, wrapped in my polar bear coloured fleece jumper. Not a good look for a top heavy girl I'll admit.
Warmth was the name of the game today, no worries as to whether my bum
looked big in it: it did... fecking
Enormous!
And that was before I'd donned my wind cheating little number
more commonly called a marquee.
26 scarfs (fib... two), gloves and titfer.
Off I strode, happy in my solitary world.
I was just about to take an atmospheric photo, when the blooming camera
died, post mortem will probably reveal Olympus frostbiteus, more
commonly known to those of a photographic leaning...
battery dead. Nothing a good plug in the wall won't sort.
My eerie cackle reverberated lonely, over through and round the valley.
"Bloody typical, the only time I think to take me box Brownie,
the little devil lets me down!'
I had to laugh.
Off I troll... I know I'll explore the empty, near derelict house.
Climbing the old oak stair of the early 17th century house,
I tried through finger-tip on bannister, to travel back in time.
All was deathly still and blizzard white-out quiet.
Leaning on the windowsill looking out of the mullioned windows,
I imagined the house with sounds of folk going about their daily lives.
Oh to have the skill, to travel back; a quick glimpse and be off,
what fun that would be.
Out in the garden I leant beneath a huge oak tree, trying to tease
a story or two from the bark biting into my back.
Maybe it tried and couldn't get through the layers of my fortified bod.
Ancient Monuments R Us.
Through the gloom I heard the putt-putt of a gardener's
trike.
'Aah there you are Linda, the garden is closed due to the high wind!'
Time to wend my way home.
A truly magical day, the like of which I'll probably never experience again.
This photo I'm sure wasn't taken this winter.
The window in the house was were I stood and dreamed of lives
and loves long gone.
I wouldn't mind but the snow was coming from the East.
And I was having such a super time, perishing but lovely for all that.
After opening up the out-post for garden guides, I ventured forth, wrapped in my polar bear coloured fleece jumper. Not a good look for a top heavy girl I'll admit.
Warmth was the name of the game today, no worries as to whether my bum
looked big in it: it did... fecking
Enormous!
And that was before I'd donned my wind cheating little number
more commonly called a marquee.
26 scarfs (fib... two), gloves and titfer.
Off I strode, happy in my solitary world.
I was just about to take an atmospheric photo, when the blooming camera
died, post mortem will probably reveal Olympus frostbiteus, more
commonly known to those of a photographic leaning...
battery dead. Nothing a good plug in the wall won't sort.
My eerie cackle reverberated lonely, over through and round the valley.
"Bloody typical, the only time I think to take me box Brownie,
the little devil lets me down!'
I had to laugh.
Off I troll... I know I'll explore the empty, near derelict house.
Climbing the old oak stair of the early 17th century house,
I tried through finger-tip on bannister, to travel back in time.
All was deathly still and blizzard white-out quiet.
Leaning on the windowsill looking out of the mullioned windows,
I imagined the house with sounds of folk going about their daily lives.
Oh to have the skill, to travel back; a quick glimpse and be off,
what fun that would be.
Out in the garden I leant beneath a huge oak tree, trying to tease
a story or two from the bark biting into my back.
Maybe it tried and couldn't get through the layers of my fortified bod.
Ancient Monuments R Us.
Through the gloom I heard the putt-putt of a gardener's
trike.
'Aah there you are Linda, the garden is closed due to the high wind!'
Time to wend my way home.
A truly magical day, the like of which I'll probably never experience again.
The window in the house was were I stood and dreamed of lives
and loves long gone.
Many years back (where did they all go??) Mark and I honeymooned on Dartmoor over New year.
ReplyDeleteOn an eerie Sunday morning, walking in those mists peculiar to The Moors (Baskevilles, Jamaica Inn and all that) we looked up to find huge battlements in front of our eyes as massive walls loomed through the trees.
No, not Dartmoor prison but Castle Drogo- somehow we'd wandered into the grounds unseen.
It had that slightly foreboding but benign charm of your last last photo, and an atmosphere we'll always remember.
So much for honeymoons in the Seychelles, lazing by warm seas, cocktails from iced glasses...
Ted's promised to take me back to his Dartmoor one day... alright I know to lose me!
DeleteLLX
I'm so glad you had the castle to retreat into for a nice daydreaming session - and also glad you weren't locked in!
ReplyDeleteNever forget your mobile phone...
Atmospheric it was Nilly, I felt very honoured, just wishing I'd taken my old dear's travel back in time rail-card.
DeleteLLX
Great post, kept me thoroughly entertained and that house looks amazing! I too in my less palatial pad do the imagining what it was like when it was built ( only 170 years in our case). I would love to have a window into the past.
ReplyDeleteI do exactly the same when I lay in bed. The 300 years of life, loves, pain and death try to speak to me through the fabric of the cottage. Just wish I knew the wavelength to pick it up.
DeleteLLX
Oh to be able to travel back in time for a brief glimpse of how people lived all those years ago. I often catch myself thinking how much of a struggle it must have been keeping warm in our freezing Bastle house in the 1600's, then I remember they had central heating. The beasts were kept in the ground floor and the people lived above. The smell would have been dreadful....
ReplyDeleteDon't go there... I know from a past life on a dairy farm, it was only after I'd left that friends told me... an air of cows accompanied my every step. I won't mind but, I always had a bath, whether I needed on or not!
DeleteLLX
A very atmospheric post Linda, I had to fill my water bottle to read it! I have to admit warm clothing does nothing for the figure, I do not need any help in the padding department. Typical of your camera to die on you too!
ReplyDeleteGlad you enjoyed it Jayne, it was a moment in my life I will never forget.
Delete'Up the blubber!' It sits well on whales.
LLX